It’s a three-ring circus, and I’m not gonna join
I have entered the third circle of hell, or perhaps the third stage of grieving. I am very angry.
I keep telling myself I don’t care. I see my church home becoming a circus, one that my husband must manage as a ringmaster. One employee hardly shows up at work, another is expected to do her job even though she’s technically been fired. Another employee, facing a layoff, was reassuringly told that she could come back and do that very same job as a volunteer, if she wants. I don’t care. Soon half the staff will be laid off, and the ministries and work they’ve done will crumble - unless people come forward and volunteer. Meanwhile, the leadership twists itself into knots over the right decision, and the congregation is either wallowing in apathy or blissfully unaware of the changes about to run them over.
Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. This is no longer my church family. I am looking for a new spiritual home. I have to do without the support of church family until I get me one.
But I do care about some things. The church can’t pay my husband’s tiny salary, even though half the congregation can afford McMansions and stay-at-home moms. My husband and I have to work 2 jobs to make ends meet. And then my husband has to stay up even later working on a job search, because who knows how much longer he’ll be employed? Darn right I’m mad.
I’m not saying that we didn’t expect privations when he came to serve God, but I sure didn’t think Joe would be a rich congregation’s servant to ease their consciences: as long as he is helping the poor and sick in our county, they can feel good knowing the job is done, without getting their own hands dirty. And then they feel that they can harrass him because their kids are “not having enough fun” in our church programs.
Yes, I’m angry. I’m angry at the dementor-like slug sleeping on my living room couch and sucking all the happy out of my home. When she was born, her older sister regressed and lost all her potty training; my little one has regressed in the past weeks to not even understanding the Basic Training of Respectful Speech. Before I can even address the content of her sentences, I have to review with her my bottom line expectations: no matter how she feels, she must always address me politely. We can’t even move past that stage into other expectations, such as doing your dishes every day and completing your weekly chores.
We just had an argument because she has claimed for four days that she is sick (in between dates with her friends) and apparently the ibuprofen I am giving her is not “real medicine”, it is fake medicine I am giving her because I do not care about her and her cold. Real medicine (such as Ny-Quil) will cure her sickness and I am purposely not buying any for her because I am mean. Even though all she has is a sore throat. Yes, I know she is depressed. I know she is grieving and lashing out at me. The thing is, I can’t help her while she’s attacking me - or sleeping. I am about ready to ask her to go back over to her dad’s.
Mad, mad, mad. I want to run away from home. Can I come stay with you?
Published by angelawd on July 22nd, 2008 tagged Just Sayin'
July 22nd, 2008 at 10:30 pm
Tell you what, let’s trade dementors for a bit, just for fun.
And you are very right to insist on polite, respectful communication. You can’t get anywhere without that. Don’t back down, you horrible mom, you!
You might like Dr. Guarendi’s teens book, just as a reminder that you aren’t insane.
July 22nd, 2008 at 11:06 pm
Yes, to your question (anytime, my friend!) and also to SC’s suggestion. In fact, if I had your address, I’d send you the Guarendi book myself. He might just suggest you DO ship her off to her dad’s. Or that you conjure yourself a REALLY powerful Patronus (and I’ll bet you have a pretty good idea Who).
July 23rd, 2008 at 2:55 pm
Wow, no wonder you ended up in Intensive Care!! I’m praying for you, your church, the Big Guy’s stress at work, and that God will provide.
I’ll have to check out Dr Guarendi’s book. Sounds interesting.
July 23rd, 2008 at 3:37 pm
Suburban, I’d be glad to! Thanks for giving me some more backbone.
Kalynne, I’ll be right over with some brownies. Actually your book sounds great - I’ll email you my addy.
Josie, I may go back to ICU just to get away from it all. Thanks for your prayers.
July 24th, 2008 at 10:23 pm
Oh yes, you cancome stay in a heartbeat! You really should introduce yourself to my friend JenGi if you don’t already know her. (86753oh9 on my blog). Her husband went through something similar last year and they’re on the other end of the pain now, but wow, what a terrible time. It really makes me angry when I hear more bad church behavior. If church can’t get it right, then who?! xo
July 25th, 2008 at 12:00 am
Come on over! I could use a good slumber party. Remember don’t let religion sap your faith.
My favorite teen book - “Get out of my life forever, but first can you take me and Cheryl to the mall”.
My favorite teen advice - “Don’t have them.” (This was from my mother)
July 25th, 2008 at 6:58 pm
Stacey, I’m comin’ over. After I go visit JenGi.
Robin, Thanks for your advice, LOL! I should have asked you MUCH sooner!
July 29th, 2008 at 4:03 am
Dang. I’m sorry! Feel them? Feel my prayers? They went out about 2.5 seconds ago.
Looking forward to an update on hubby’s job…and on deathly ill daughter’s terrible struggle for her health and sanity with such an unreasonable mom. Ibuprofen? Ack - how dare you
Hang in there. Seriously. I prayed, and will keep on.